Last of the O'Rourkes

by Kate Douglas

  “James Dearborn. I think he’s James Dearborn, Tim Anderson’s partner. But...”

  “The mama’s boy? The one you said was engaged to your friend?”

  “I’m not sure. He looks so different. James was almost pretty. His hair was perfect, nails trimmed, suit neatly pressed even during a kidnapping. The guy was a freak.”

  “So’s the guy who’s been after you.”

  Kat couldn’t answer. She glanced up into the rearview mirror. Seamus stared back at her. Eye contact lasted only a moment, but she felt the depth of his feelings, his remorse, his anger...at her?

  Why not?

  If not for her, there’d be no murderer in his life. His wonderful, quirky, little housekeeper would still be alive. If not for Kat, Seamus would still be living the comfortable, wonderful life he’d led before.

  If not for her, even Riley might still be alive.

  She held Michael close and tried to keep pressure on the towel covering the knife slash across her throat. She knew she’d lost a lot of blood, but she’d been hurt before.

  She’d been hurt before, but never when she had a child to protect.

  Never when she’d loved a man who could never love her back.

  She wasn’t a crier. She never cried.

  She was a survivor.

  Kat Malone goes it alone.

  But Kat Malone wasn’t alone. Not now. Not anymore.

  She held Michael tightly against her. She gave her trust over to Seamus and her tears dampened the soft yellow blanket covering their son.

  They think they’ve won. Fools. I’ve been beaten before but my tormentors always pay. They think they won because they know me, but they don’t, really. They never do. It’s better now...they know who to fear. They expect to die. I don’t intend to disappoint them.

  They’ll die afraid. Not me...I will find the ultimate satisfaction. I will win. I always win, don’t I? I showed you I always win, didn’t I, Mother?

  Mother? Is that you, Mother? I’ll see you in hell before the night is over. I’m coming, Mother. I’m coming.

  SEAMUS DIDN’T EVEN LET up on the accelerator when they hit the highway at the end of the gravel road. He swung the wheel to the right, and the back tires slipped and skidded before he brought the Jag under control then headed toward Guerneville.

  Fat raindrops splashed against the windshield. The wipers emphasized the danger. When Seamus had gone to the store, he’d learned the road south was closed due to falling trees and a landslide. The road east was closed as well with flooding in the low-lying areas. Their only route to a hospital was to head west, toward the ocean, make the loop south along the coast highway and cut back toward Santa Rosa. There was a small hospital in Sebastopol, but the roads to that little town were questionable as well.

  The Jag sped along the dark, rain-swept road, eating up the miles. Kathleen murmured softly in the back seat, talking to Michael. Her voice soothed Seamus as well, reminded him of the importance of this mad dash through the night. His vision still hadn’t cleared completely. The yellow line in front of him often split and meandered with the beat of his pulse.

  He’d never had a concussion, but the symptoms were all there. Damn, he had to hang on. Long enough to get Kat and Michael to the hospital. That was all. He could do this.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. A brilliant set of headlights bore down on them.

  “Kathleen. I think he’s on us.”

  Kat spun around in her seat, then turned back to Seamus. “Can you outrun him?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  He pressed the accelerator to the floor. The powerful car leapt forward. The bridge across the Russian River suddenly loomed in the headlights. Seamus hit the narrow span at almost sixty miles per hour. The streetlight was red, but he ran it without a qualm. The tires on the low-slung Jag squealed. The car spun left, then straightened out.

  A deep puddle threw them into another spin. They slid through the intersection at an oblique angle. Seamus prayed for a highway patrolman.

  None appeared. Silently cursing his frustration Seamus regained control of the Jag and headed west. Highway 1 and the small town of Jenner were just a few miles down river.

  Headlights filled the rearview mirror. Their stalker pursued them in a manic race along the narrow highway.

  Suddenly the clouds unleashed their burden. Rain drummed against the windshield, bounced back off the dark asphalt surface, poured in thick cascades of mud and rock from the high cliffs to their right.

  Saturated from weeks of heavy storms, the hillsides slipped. Slumped. Edged ever closer to the road. The river boiled on their left. Huge waves, laden with fallen trees and other debris, reached almost to the edge of the slick asphalt.

  “Hang on to Michael!” Seamus spun the wheel. He barely missed a huge boulder tumbling across the road. It crossed between the Jag and the car racing close behind, then disappeared into the flood-swollen river.

  Kathleen gasped. Michael’s voice rose in a piercing wail. “He’s okay,” Kat shouted. “Hurry, Seamus. Dearborn’s right behind us!”

  Seamus couldn’t look back. He wished he could reassure Kathleen. Looking away from the road wasn’t an option, not if they expected to survive.

  Hell, who was he kidding? They couldn’t possibly survive, not this, not the storm and a manic killer hot on their trail. Seamus O’Rourke had no skills. He wasn’t a hero. He’d never had the right stuff to be other than what he was. It was a little too late to change now.

  He was a writer, for crying out loud. A foodie, a geek who thought the newest kitchen gadget was worth an entire column in the Sunday paper. He wasn’t Riley. He didn’t even know how to take the damned safety off a gun! If he’d been able to figure that out, the man now threatening their lives could well be dead.

  With your luck, Seamus, you would’ve shot Kathleen. The frying pan was more your style .

  Almost...he thought he heard his brother laughing. Oh God, I’m really losing it here....

  Seamus braked to avoid a fallen tree. The car behind him didn’t. The force of the impact set Michael crying louder and Kat to cursing. Seamus accelerated once again, sliding around the tree, leaving their pursuer behind.

  Lightning flashed. Directly in front of Seamus the side of the hill fell away. Trees. Boulders. Tons of mud crossed the road and crashed into the raging river.

  Seamus hit the brakes. The Jaguar slid sideways, a howl of tires on wet pavement before impact.

  There was an eerie silence, a loud crunch as the Jag hit the churning wall of mud. Trapped amid the debris, they slid toward the river.

  Seamus heard Kathleen’s scream and Michael’s whimper.

  His heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.

  Then, as if it had always been a part of the mountain, the car settled amid the rocks and mud and plunged into the dark water.

  KAT FELT AN ALMOST preternatural calm, a sense of peace that frightened her more than panic. The car was underwater, upright at least, but there was only darkness outside the windows. Darkness and the deep roar of the river.

  But no sound from the baby.

  Michael wasn’t crying.

  Oh Lord, please....

  Kat pressed her face against the baby’s silken cheek. He immediately turned his head at the contact, rooting against her face as if in search of dinner.

  Kat’s tears flowed and she held him tighter. Thank you, thank you, thank you....

  The car lurched. Seamus’s voice penetrated the odd silence. “Kat? Sweetheart...are you okay?”

  “Seamus...yes. We’re fine. How...?”

  “I’m okay. We don’t have much time. There’s water coming in around my feet...”

  “How are we going to get out?”

  “Move up to the front seat. I’ll kick out the windshield. You hang on to Michael and I’ll pull you to the surface.”

  Suddenly the car lurched forward, raising the back end so that Kat was above Seamus. Something scraped heavily along o
ne side of the Jag, then shuddered to a stop. The roar of the river increased.

  “Hurry, Kat. Now!”

  Lethargy weighted her bones and muscles. She fumbled with the seatbelt. Nothing happened. The clasp held.

  Michael whimpered as the car jolted with the impact of some unseen debris. There wasn’t time. Seamus couldn’t possibly save them both.

  “I’m ready,” she lied. “Go. Now!”

  She heard Seamus grunt with the effort, felt the pressure change as the windshield popped free and water rushed into the car. The slash across her chest burned as the icy water swirled around her. She screamed at Seamus, felt his arms on hers and thrust the baby into his hands.

  “My seatbelt’s jammed. Take Michael. Go, Seamus. For the love of God, save him!”

  “Kat! No!”

  Water cascaded around him. She wished she could see him, just this once. Wished she could tell him how much she loved him.

  But she couldn’t. Seamus and Michael were gone.

  THE AIR POCKET KEPT the water at a level just beneath her chin. It wouldn’t last for long, not the way the car jerked and wobbled in the rushing torrent. At some point the Jag would break free of whatever held it in place. She’d seen cars in floods, watched them roll and tumble like so much garbage.

  Kat fumbled again with the seat belt, her fingers growing more unresponsive from the cold, from fear, from loss of blood. What did it matter? She’d never make it to the surface. Maybe, if she’d been stronger. Not now, not so soon after giving birth, not bleeding from a gash across her throat... Seamus hadn’t said he was coming back. Not a word. He’d taken Michael and disappeared into the flood.

  Kat Malone goes it alone.

  “No, damn it. Not any more!” Kat sobbed against the restraint. Icy water sloshed around her.

  This was what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? Seamus finally had his baby. Had his baby free and clear without the added burden of a streetwise female investigator.

  No, Seamus was an honorable man, wasn’t he? He’d come back for her. He wouldn’t leave Michael’s mother to drown.

  How long had he been gone? It seemed like hours. How long could she last? How long would it take for her to finally believe he wasn’t coming back? She’d always been so damned gullible. Kat almost laughed, thinking of all the times she’d believed.

  Hell, she’d even thought Riley loved her.

  I do, Kat. I’ll always love you. But never as much as Seamus loves you. He’ll be back. Hold on, please. He’ll come for you. Trust me, Kat. He loves you.

  “Riley? Where are you?” There was nothing to be seen...not even her hand in front of her face.

  I’m here, Kat. I’ll always be here. Hold on, sweetheart. He’s coming. Seamus is coming for you. He was shot, you know. Dearborn shot him. He’s hurting. He’s coming as fast as he can....

  Riley smiled at her from the front seat. His rumpled suit was dry. How could that be? The front seat was completely underwater. A faint glow outlined his features, but it was Riley. She knew it and felt him in her heart. Took peace from his presence, accepted his words.

  Maybe this was what it meant to die.

  The car jerked, slipped and tilted. A great whoosh of bubbles escaped through the open window, leaving Kat with a tiny bubble of air caught against the back window.

  She struggled against the restraint of the seat belt, reached for that tiny bit of life sustaining air. She felt Riley beside her, felt the essence of the man as he had been.

  The latch holding the jammed belt released.

  Gasping, Kat curled against the back window, drew what air she could from the tiny pocket that was left.

  Riley was gone. All that existed was this little bit of life, one frantic breath after another...one frantic breath and the strong, bruising grasp of fingers grabbing at her ankle.

  Pulling her away from the air, pulling her into the raging river, her lungs burning, eyes shut tight against the flood. Suddenly Seamus had his arms around her and she felt the powerful thrust as he kicked them to the surface. It took forever, the passage from death to life. Forever and a heartbeat, then suddenly the rain was pelting down and a huge wave of water cascaded over their heads.

  Arms and hands reached for them and pulled them ashore. Both she and Seamus bent over, coughing and gasping for air. Someone helped both of them away from the river’s edge and wrapped them in blankets. Kat heard cheering, the sound of applause.

  “Michael? Where’s my baby?”

  “I’ve got him. He’s fine.”

  A heavyset man dressed in a yellow slicker opened the front of his coat to show Kat the warm bundle tucked against his chest. Kat took a deep breath, thanked God and Riley, then turned around to Seamus and threw her arms around him.

  “You came back for me.” She was sobbing, crying all over him, but it didn’t matter. “Riley said you would. I didn’t believe him. I thought you’d take Michael...leave me. I thought...I thought you’d leave, not ever come back.”

  Seamus stiffened in her embrace. He reached down, took hold of her arms, put her away from him.

  She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears, her soft mouth begging to be kissed.

  She thought I’d leave her. She thought I’d let her drown? She honestly thought I’d take her baby and let her die?

  This pain was worse than anything he’d known before. More than when his parents died, more than when he lost Gran. Even Riley’s death couldn’t compare.

  This was a death of all his dreams, all those fantasies he’d conjured up while watching Kat as she carried the baby, even more when she finally gave birth and held the infant to her breast. He’d seen them as a family, a loving family raising their son. Seamus, Kathleen and Michael.

  She thought I wouldn’t come back?Why shouldn’t she?

  He’d managed to fail every time he’d promised to help her. Why shouldn’t she expect him to fail at saving her life?

  And when she thought she was dying, whose image had she turned to?

  You win, Riley. Dead or alive, you always win .

  Seamus took a deep breath, curled his fingers into fists when they would reach for Kathleen. “Riley’s dead, but I guess he’ll never be gone. At least, not for you...or, it appears, for me either.” He took a deep breath, wiped the blood and river muck out of his eyes. “I promise you, Kat. I won’t try to take your son, but my lawyer will be in touch regarding support. Don’t worry. This time I won’t come back. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  The wail of an approaching ambulance echoed off the canyon walls.

  Seamus watched as the paramedics raced toward Kathleen. Then he turned and walked away.

  “WHERE IS HE, SANDY? It’s been three days.” Kat pushed herself to a sitting position and peeked at Michael, sleeping soundly in the bassinet next to her hospital bed.

  “I don’t know, Kat.” Sandy sat down on the edge of the bed and awkwardly patted her leg through the blankets. “The emergency room technician said he wasn’t admitted, just treated and released. I called his house but didn’t get an answer and he’s got his cell phone turned off. You might be able to reach him through his agent.”

  Kat absentmindedly scratched at the stitches running along the side of her neck. The wound wasn’t deep, but she’d lost a lot of blood. The plastic surgeon who’d sewn her back together had been inordinately proud of his work.

  “Sandy, it’s not like Seamus to just bail out. He’s much too responsible for that.” Kat blinked the tears back and sniffed. Sandy passed her a box of tissues. “I mean, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to see me, but it’s just not like him to...” She bit back a sob. “Damn him.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to cuss anymore.” Sandy grinned at her.

  “You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “Guess I’m doing the denial thing, eh? He’s not coming back, is he? It’s all my fault.”

  “I think he’ll come back.” Sandy squeezed her leg. “Right now, he’s hurting. When I saw him in the e
mergency room, he was still pretty rattled. You have to admit, you’ve brought a bit more excitement into the man’s life than he’s accustomed to. Seamus doesn’t usually get shot, chased by a killer, run off the road or have to pull a woman and baby out of a flooded river.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.” Michael squirmed in his sleep and Kat patted his back. He immediately settled down. She turned back to Sandy. “Did he say anything about me?”

  Sandy’s averted eyes told Kat more than she wanted to know...and not nearly enough. “C’mon, Sandy. What did he say?”

  “It didn’t make any sense, Kat.” Sandy stood up and wandered around the small, private hospital room, obviously ill at ease.

  “Sandy? Let me try and figure it out. What’d he say?”

  “He kept talking about how you’d never be able to trust him because he couldn’t keep his promises, that even when he did, you didn’t believe him...and how Riley’d won again. Riley’s been dead for a long time, Kat. What’d he mean?”

  Kat took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It really shouldn’t hurt this much, but hadn’t she hurt Seamus just as badly? What must he have thought when she’d blurted out she didn’t think he’d come back for her? That he only wanted her baby?

  A man as sensitive and caring as Seamus. A man more vulnerable than he’d ever admit. A man who’d sworn to protect her and her child and who had done exactly that.

  “It means I’m really a jerk, Sandy. But thanks for telling me.”

  “Sorry, Kat. I do have one bit of good news. Well, good and not so good.” He pulled a metal chair up close to the bed and sat on it. “We pulled Dearborn’s car out of the river yesterday. His body was still inside, along with a gun, two knives and a lot of duct tape. It was obvious he had plans for you.”

  Kat shivered and glanced at Michael, sleeping so peacefully beside her. She leaned over, reached into the bassinet and picked him up. Right now she felt a very strong desire to hold her baby close to her heart. “I’m just glad he’s dead. I’ve been lying here trying to figure out how to get lost so he’d never find us again. It was either that or kill him myself. I still don’t understand why he targeted me. I was a minor player in the case.”